


to have and to hold

by pwnedbypineapple



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-13
Updated: 2014-01-13
Packaged: 2018-01-01 10:34:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1043778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pwnedbypineapple/pseuds/pwnedbypineapple
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of Doctor/River oneshots centered around a hurt/comfort theme - River taking care of her Doctor.</p><p>2: It's so easy to let those walls slip when he's with her. Or, the Doctor experiences a bout of claustrophobia and River is there to get him through it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. a concentration of nerves is the worst possible design

**Author's Note:**

> This will be a series of unrelated oneshots all focused around the same theme - River taking care of the Doctor. Some will be incredibly fluffy and domestic and not sad at all (like the one below), some will be darker, but I will try to avoid the soul-crushing sadness that I usually associate with this pairing.

**1: a concentration of nerves is the worst possible design;** On some days, the Doctor embodied all of his one thousand years; on others, River estimated that he was about five.

* * *

"Ow  _ow_   _ **ow**_  - oh, River, River, I'm  _dying_ , gah, it  _hurts_."

On some days, the Doctor embodied all of his one thousand years; on others, River estimated that he was about five. Today was one of the latter. He reeled near the TARDIS console, balanced haphazardly on one foot, and he would have fallen had River not dropped his shoes and caught him by the shoulders. "I  _told_  you to put them on," she said, giving him a soothing rub on the back and guiding him gently to the floor, where he leaned against the console. The expression on his face was one of exaggerated pain and complete indignation, and River smiled as she knelt beside him.

"Yes, well, I was  _distracted_  - ahh _hhh_." The Doctor shut his eyes and with one hand clutched at his right leg, above the knee. His other hand instinctively sought out something else to hold, and River slipped her own into it.

His grip was hesitant, at first; even in the midst of pain, he was wary of hurting anyone, and River loved him for it. "You're not going to hurt me," she reminded him, shaking her head. "Squeeze as hard as you need."

He did. He held tight to her hand like a drowning man. "This is  _ridiculous_ ," he said hotly, opening his eyes and glaring down at the offending appendages. "It's the universe's idea of a sick joke, that's what! Did you know that the pain of a stubbed toe is  _universal_? In species with toes, that is.  _Ahhh._  Literally the most  _useless_  collection of nerves, who  _designed_  this nonsense!"

On he rambled, his voice rising and falling with fresh waves of pain. For a few moments, River refrained from commenting and let him go on unchecked, through the worst of it. It was too endearing to interrupt, anyway. When his voice had tapered off somewhat, and he was muttering about how  _he_  would have set foot nerves up, River extracted her hand. "Alright," she said, sliding down to where his socked feet were splayed, "might as well have a look at it. The rate you were going, I wouldn't be surprised if you broke something."

The Doctor twitched the toes on his right foot and grimaced, hissing through his teeth as tears of pain automatically sprung forth. "No, no, I don't think so, I can move them. I  _hope_  not, that would be embarrassing."

"I think you've already achieved embarrassing, sweetie," River informed him; gently, she pulled off his sock and handed it to him to hold in place of her hand, and then she inspected his foot. The area that he'd struck against the console was bruised, already a splotchy blue, but it could have been worse.

"How does it look?" the Doctor asked; he'd scrunched his eyes closed once more.

River smiled again. "Oh,  _completely_  awful," she said merrily. "You'll probably need reconstructive surgery, after this..."

The Doctor's eyes shot open. "You're lying!" he said indignantly.

River patted his leg, smiling serenely at his glare. "Of course I am. Can you move it for me, once more?"

The Doctor complied and tightly gripped the sock bundled up in his fist, wincing as he twitched his toes again. But the pain didn't seem to be as bad, judging by the fact that his eyes didn't water this time. Ever so gently, River touched the area and deemed it to be just what it seemed: bruised. Not even sprained. Anyone else, with all that flailing and rushing about, would have accidentally broken a toe, but not the Doctor. Lucky idiot, River thought fondly.

"What's your prognosis, Doctor Song?" the Doctor asked. "And no lying."

"Ice," River answered, getting to her feet. "It's a little swollen, but that's it. I'll only be a moment. Do you think you can  _possibly_  manage to sit still until I get back?"

"Not if you're getting ice," the Doctor said, reaching up to clutch at the console, trying to pull himself up without putting weight on his right foot. "Ice is cold."

" _Stunning_  observation, my love." River watched, both amused and warily ready to catch him, as the Doctor precariously maneuvered himself to his feet... or to one foot, specifically.

"Ha ha, you're  _so_  funny. I meant, I don't want to put ice on my toes. That hurts too!" The Doctor paused, glaring down at his injured foot. Bracing himself, he tried to hop forward on the other foot and reach down to grab his shoes all in one smooth motion - to prove that he was perfectly fine, no doubt. And naturally, with a surprised yelp, he tilted at a wild angle, toppling sideways.

River, who'd suspected he'd try something stupid once he was up, caught him smoothly, bridal-style. He blinked up at her, looking sheepish. "You're useless in normal situations," River told him. Not that she minded, particularly when she got to hold him like this.

"I know," he sighed. "Could you get my sock?"

Instead, River helped him to limp to the stairs and seated him on the top step. " _Stay_ ," she told him firmly.

"I'm not a dog, River," the Doctor said petulantly, twisting around to watch as she scooped up his sock, which had fluttered to the ground when he fell, and his shoes. "Come  _on_ , I have such an amazing place to show you! I can't believe I forgot about it. You'll love it."

"Is that why you rushed out of bed?" River sidestepped him easily, holding his sock and shoes high, where he couldn't reach them as she passed. "It can wait until that swelling goes down. Unless you'd rather hop around that amazing place on one foot."

"I can walk," the Doctor muttered sulkily, though he made no move to get up.

Chuckling, River headed to the TARDIS's med bay and opened one of the cooling units. A simple ice pack would do the trick; no doubt the bruising would be all but gone in an hour, thanks to the Doctor's Time Lord physiology. Shifting both of the Doctor's shoes to one hand, River grabbed the pack and felt the floor beneath her feet begin to shake. The familiar sound of the TARDIS's take-off screeched in her ears, and she sighed, dropping the ice pack onto the nearest countertop and grabbing for the edge to steady herself as the TARDIS tilted dangerously. The Doctor flew the old girl like he moved on one foot - that is to say, with absolutely no grace.

"He can't relax for one minute, can he?" River sighed, and the TARDIS's presence in her mind hummed in agreement.

When the floor finally settled, River once again picked up the ice pack and marched back to the console room, where the Doctor balanced against the console, grinning cheekily. "I  _told_  you it could wait," River said reproachfully, torn between exasperation and amusement; she wanted to be mad, but it was difficult when he pulled those faces at her.

"I know, but you know me, I  _hate_  waiting," the Doctor said. "Besides, it's fine! I'm fine. All this fuss over a few stubbed toes is ridiculous."

"That's not the point," River said, and perhaps something in her voice had changed, grown sharper, because the Doctor's grin faded. He looked at her now with a slight frown and a little furrow in his forehead, and he said nothing, waiting for her to continue.

River sighed again and came forward, up the stairs. "You always brush it off," she said, almost accusingly. "Any and all pain, always. And you never want anyone to take care of you, if you can help it. Even if  _they_  want to."

And that was all she said. She stood in front of him now, expectantly, and meekly the Doctor lowered himself into a sitting position, with his right leg splayed out and his left folded under it. "Well, if you  _want_  to..." he said casually.

"That's better," River said and crouched down, setting the sock and shoes aside. Gently, she placed the ice pack over the bruised area, and the Doctor winced at the sudden cold. River offered her hand, and he took it gratefully, clutching it as the pain intensified for a moment. But the ice pack soon did its work, and River could feel the Doctor relax with a small, contented sigh. He did not let go of her hand, however; instead, he pulled it in and kissed it swiftly, before looking up at her with a twinkle in his eyes and his cheeky grin back in place.

River smiled. It was hard to stay even mildly annoyed with him. "It's almost like you  _know_  how cute you are."

"Oh, I know," the Doctor assured her.

"And you abuse it shamelessly, you bad boy. Here." River guided his hand, still holding hers, down to the ice pack. "Keep that there, light pressure, while I get changed." She stood and looked down at her nightclothes; the Doctor had jumped out of bed and dressed himself so quickly that River had only had time to stare at him sleepily and wonder how someone so old moved quite so fast. "So, this  _amazing_  place you want to show me... how should I dress?"

The Doctor shifted his leg so that he could both hold the ice pack to his foot and lean back against the console. He grinned broadly at her. "It'll be  _quite_  the party. Might even be a bit dangerous. What do you think?"

River laughed. "Sexy but practical it is, then." A moment later, she fixed him with her sternest expression. "Now,  _don't you move_  while I'm changing. I don't care  _how_  tempting outside that door may be. Doctor's orders."

"Ah, but that means I can override your orders with mine."

"You're not even a medical doctor."

"Neither are you!"

" _You're_  the one who asked me for my prognosis, sweetie," River reminded him. With a wave over her shoulder, she left the console room, headed for the wardrobe. Upon reflection, she decided that there was a 50/50 chance of finding him where she'd left him when she emerged. Honestly, the man was practically pathological when it came to seeking out adventures. Not unlike herself, she had to admit, though at least  _she_  could keep relative control of her own feet.

But then again, River thought warmly - it was one of many, many reasons why she loved him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact - the entire idea for writing multiple oneshots on a River/Eleven h/c theme was somehow inspired by an instance where I stubbed my toes so badly that I swear they did not stop aching excruciatingly for about ten minutes. One of the worst pains I've ever experienced, and I've had stitches in my head. I really don't know how fanfiction blossomed out of the experience, though.


	2. so i stayed in the darkness with you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's so easy to let those walls slip when he's with her. Or, the Doctor experiences a bout of claustrophobia and River is there to get him through it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a general warning, this chapter describes a panic attack in detail.

* * *

He didn't mean to. He should have been controlling himself, watching his own actions, but it was so easy to let those walls slip when he was with her. He balked at the small vent opening, alarm flashing through him, and River saw, in the split second before he covered it up. She always saw.

She didn't say anything about it, however. There was no time – angry shouts could be heard in the distance, drawing nearer, and the two of them were so close to escaping. Only one obstacle remained, and the Doctor eyed it warily. He could do it, of course, but that didn't mean he had to like it. He waved away River's concern, indicating that he was fine.

"I'll go first," River said instead, shoving her gun into its holster. "Just follow closely and keep listening to my voice."

"View should be nice," he said lightly, opting for humor to further bury his irrational fear.

She grinned back at him before climbing into the vent. "I hate you," she said lovingly.

"No, you don't," the Doctor replied.

But his smile faded as he climbed in after her. The vent was just big enough to fit an adult of his size, crawling on hands and knees. There was no light further in – just pitch darkness, a yawning hole that threatened to engulf him. The very air was oppressive, hot and stuffy and suffocating – clearly there was no money being wasted on ventilation bills. For once, the Doctor did exactly as ordered and stayed right on River's heels, letting his hands brush her ankles and shoes as often as possible to reassure himself that she was still there. That the sounds of her huffing breath, her voice, were not products of the kind of madness that could be produced by a place like this.

Because it did indeed feel like he could so easily slip into madness from this. He couldn't see anything, he couldn't _hear_ right – sounds were oddly muffled, reverberating strangely in such a small space. The walls threatened to cave in on him, and he couldn't even _see_ them. But they were there, a menacing presence that closed in all around him, and they weren't the only things threatening to collapse. The Doctor's breathing quickened steadily, and a heaviness sat on his chest that made him feel as if his lungs would contract and _stay_ contracted at any given moment, cutting off his air. Respiratory bypass or not, he would die if that happened. He would die, and there would be no regeneration, and...

"Stay with me, sweetie," River's voice said, hushed but firm, slicing through his jumbled thoughts. The Doctor's breath wheezed out, shaky, and he swallowed with some difficulty, focusing on her voice. She'd told him to listen, and he did. River knew what she was doing. She was the one who'd gotten a good look at the building's blueprints, and it didn't matter that they couldn't see a damn thing down here – she'd navigate the twists and turns and get to them the TARDIS. The "floor" of the vent was cold under the Doctor's fingers, despite the warmth of the air, and he focused on that too. One shuffle forward at a time, listening to River's words of encouragement and directions to turn when needed. A few more meters and they'd be out, that was all. Just a few more...

But it wasn't a few more. It was a _lot_ more, and the Doctor was getting dizzier with every movement. Memories were assaulting his senses now – fractured images of an enclosed _box_ , his limbs restrained, _consumed_ with the awful horrible fear that he would _never get out_. The Doctor's breathing had once again become rapid and uneven, and he wanted to yell, to throw his arms out and _force_ the unseen walls to expand. It wasn't until River's tone grew sharper that he realized he'd lost track of her voice again.

"Doctor!" she said, pitching her voice to catch his attention. "It's going to be fine. You can do this. It's not much farther now."

"River," he breathed. Somewhere in his panic he wanted to feel embarrassed – it was such a _stupid_ reaction, there was nothing wrong, it was all in his head, what would River think of him – but he didn't have the strength. Instead, he just listened, and this time he _clung_ to her voice like a drowning man.

And then there was light – harsh light that momentarily blinded him, and he faltered, but River's strong arms were pulling him forward. They collapsed into the storage room, limbs tangled together, and instead of his breath slowing down like he thought it would, the Doctor found that it was speeding up. He was _laughing_ – it had a hysterical edge, more like wheezing, like he wanted to cry.

Now _that_ would be embarrassing.

River was helping him up, helping him to find his feet, and then she was drawing him in. Her arms wrapped around him – tenderly, gently, but the Doctor could feel the fierce protectiveness behind the gesture, restrained for his sake. His head tilted forward into her neck, and he leaned into her embrace as if she was the only real thing in the world. She was so wonderfully _solid_ , and the Doctor realized that he _was_ crying. Not real, proper tears, but his eyes were wet, and he was still choking on his own breath, still _laughing_ so horribly.

"Shhh," River said soothingly. "It's going to pass. I know it feels overwhelming right now, but it _will_ pass, and then you'll be fine. Trust me."

The Doctor listened to her words and to her heartbeats, and at last he felt the panic level out. It didn't ebb, not right away, but River kept talking, and he trusted her. Her low, melodic voice kept him sane, as they waited it out – because of her voice, he knew that it wouldn't last forever.

When he finally spoke, it wasn't gone, but it had become manageable. The time that had passed felt like an age, but rationally he knew it had only been about a minute.

"River," the Doctor said, into her neck. "We're still here."

"Mmm-hmm," she said.

"The TARDIS is right there."

"Mmm-hmm."

"What if they find us?"

"We'll move when you're ready," River said. "And if anyone shows up, they'll regret it."

The Doctor had no doubt.

* * *

The TARDIS floated within empty space – glorious empty space, so open, so _fre_ e. There was nothing, nothing here – except for photons springing into existence before obliterating themselves, perhaps. But they were invisible to the naked eye, and so the Doctor could pretend that he sat in the midst of a truly empty and infinite expanse, legs dangling, with only the ever so distant stars for company.

Well, the stars, and the TARDIS humming in his head, and River. Always River.

She sat beside him in the TARDIS's open doorway. Her shoulder was pressed against his, warm and comforting, and she didn't speak. She wouldn't speak until he was ready, because she was River and she knew. He didn't have to hold himself together for her, though he often tried nonetheless. But with her, it could all come spilling out, and that was okay, because she looked at him and saw him exactly for what he was – not an alien, not a hero, not a god, not even a Time Lord. Just him.

And _that_ was the really comforting thing about her.

"River," he murmured, and she looked at him. "Thank you for... for understanding." It had been so _stupid_ , and yet it wasn't something that he could control when it happened, and River still knew. She always knew.

River smiled sadly, and her eyes were inquisitive. "Does that happen a lot?" she asked. It wasn't a prying question, however. He was free to answer as he wished.

The Doctor looked down into the blackness of space. "Ah, no," he said, clearing his throat. "Recent development. Bit annoying, really." He couldn't explain to her _how_ it had started, not really, because she hadn't reached the Pandorica yet, and he could still hear her words so clearly. _Not one line. Don't you dare._

River's hand entered his vision and wrapped around his own; her thumb commenced rhythmic stroking of the back of his hand. "It's not stupid, you know."

The Doctor sighed petulantly. She'd read him like an open book, _of course_. "Can't I have _any_ private thoughts?" he asked with a dramatic sigh, and River grinned.

"Absolutely not," she said, and then she became earnest, her eyes searching his, making him hold her gaze. "But I mean it, sweetie. Don't beat yourself up over something like this."

The Doctor shrugged, finally looking away. "You have to admit, it is a _bit_ silly..."

"Phobias are by nature silly," River replied. "Doesn't mean they're any less real."

A lump formed in the Doctor's throat, and once again he found himself swallowing with difficulty. But he was no longer choking on his own fear. He was just awed by his River.

"Thank you," he said again, so sincerely that River rolled her eyes with a crooked half-smile.

"You _could_ show your gratitude in other ways," she said.

The Doctor beamed at her. "Oh, is than an order, dear?"

"Very much so," River answered, and she didn't wait for him to comply. She leaned in to kiss him deeply, and the Doctor returned it happily, cupping her face with his hands just so he could feel her – his River, so solid and real and incredible. The lingering uneasiness in his stomach, which had remained since the panic had finally abated, vanished.

Fear didn't stand half a chance when River was around.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is a bit personal for me. Claustrophobia is something I've had to deal with since I was young (can't even sleep in the dark because it's too suffocating and enclosing), but it's not necessarily something I think the Doctor might actually have – it's just a kind of potential headcanon that I wanted to explore from a personal standpoint.


End file.
